I'm in Cali.
Monterey, to be precise. Oldest city in California and former stomping grounds of John Steinback. Ever heard of him, huh? huh? huh? Of Mice and Men . . . The Grapes of Wrath . . . Cannery Row . . . I've wandered up and down Cannery Row three times now, thank you very much.
If there's one thing I love more than famous people, it's famous people's summer cottages. That's where the magic happens, baby!
The craft magic, that is. (Ahem . . .)
I also drove past Steinbeck's childhood home in Salinas. This is what it looks like when you're driving by.
From what I hear some magic happened here too. In that attic window.
But I'm not here to see John Steinbeck's childhood home or summer cottage or Cannery Row. I'm just here to support my hub who is attending a professional conference. To be truthful I didn't even know John Steinbeck was from California before I showed up. Heck, I didn't even know Monterey was from California before I showed up.
See how much edumacation you can get from professional conferencing!
While my hub conferences, I amble. Up and down the docks, and around the wharf, and through the harbor. Sometimes I buy fish and chips from Starbucks, or drink hot chocolate in the plaza. Other times I walk over the bridge and pour Robitussin down the seal's throats. Poor things have picked up a nasty croup, bless their hearts.
If you wanna know what it's like to amble down Fisherman's Wharf in Monterey, it's a lot like walking through Costco on Sample day. Only slower. And all the samples are clam chowder. And there's a live jazz band playing in the background. And a lot of boats in the foreground. But if Costco were less crowded and more . . . outdoorsy, it would be just like Costco on sample day.
And if you wanna know what it's like to travel to Monterey with the dummy and her hub it's a lot like The Amazing Race. We are that one couple. The one where the man, who has all the luggage slung over his shoulders, is booking it through the long term parking lot at the airport, calling "ARE YOU COMING?" to the woman 40 paces behind him, whose feet are moving as fast as they can in her new cheetah print ballet shoes.
See I have this routine when it comes to getaway vacays. I have to focus on the getAWAY part before I focus on the VACAY part.
Getting AWAY includes several steps that have to happen before I can leave the house. Things like remodeling the house, topping off the food storage, finishing the scrapbooks, baking bread for all the neighbors . . .
Can I help it if I travel like I live? As if each trip will be my last? For me it's like wearing clean underwear in case I get into a car accident. I can't leave the house until I know my underwear is clean. And remodeled.
So to speak.
My hub is patient with my process until the morning we have to catch our flight, and then he gets quiet. It's 8:45, he'll say. Or it's 8:55.
And so it goes all the way to the airport. It's 9:05. It's 9:15. And then as we're hoofing it through the long term parking lot because, as he puts it, we don't have time for the shuttle, he'll shout over his shoulder, It's 10:15!
No one can cram more meaning into the simple passing of time than my dear hub.
Speaking of passing time, we had to pass quite a bit of time at the gate while waiting for our plane to arrive so we could board.
Mmmhmmm . . . you heard me. And we had to pass even more time in the Phoenix airport waiting for our connecting flight.
More than six hours in total! To get to California! From UTAH!
I could have walked there faster if I wasn't wearing my new cheetah print ballet shoes.
I think you can tell how much your company values you by how they book your business flights. If it takes more than an hour and a half to get from Utah to California you can safely assume you're not near the top of the totem pole. And if your seating assignment is not next to your wife's seating assignment, you're probably closer to the bottom, especially if that seating assignment is the last seat on the plane, next to the window, across from the bathroom.
But no matter. We're having fun in California! Wish you were here!
(And yes, my eyeballs started sweating when I saw the ocean again!)